


Someday You Will Be Loved

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Childhood, Dreams, Gen, Memories, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-08
Updated: 2010-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you so much - don't you ever forget that"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someday You Will Be Loved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chomiji](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chomiji).



> For the prompt: Gojyo dreams about his mother - the living years

In his dream, the house smells of fallen flower petals and sweet spice. Gojyo sits on the wood floor, pushing toy cars with chipped paint back and forth. All the windows are thrown wide, and a soft breeze circulates through the small house, carrying bird song and rustling leaf-noise with it. A fat orange cat sits in the windowsill above the kitchen sink, watching Gojyo with wary green eyes. They are not quite friends yet, though sometimes it will consent to jump down and rub around him, so long as he remembers to be gentle and not pull its fur.

The woman moves like a dancer. The jewellery around her wrists and ankles makes a light, cheerful noise, her bare feet pat on the floorboards and her bright skirt whispers like a secret voice. Gojyo’s eyes are on here every time she moves near him, and his ears are forever attune to the gentle rhythm of her voice, although he understands only some of the words. He likes best when she sings directly to him, made up songs as often punctuated with laughter as with music.

She is not always happy, though. Some days she crosses the kitchen and lifts him into her arms, her grip so tight he almost protests, and rocks him back and forth.

“Gojyo,” she whispers, “oh Gojyo, my baby, I love you so much. Don’t you _ever_ forget that.”

He loves her too, squeezes his eyes shut, presses his face against her soap-sweet neck, tangles his hands in her dark hair and doesn’t dare to ever let go.

And when he wakes in the morning to cold sunlight and the smell of stale cigarettes and unwashed sheets, he struggles for a moment to remember her face, before the fog of sleep and old pain destroys his desire to remember at all.

-End-


End file.
